Alone again
by heggyy
Summary: Ethan's alone again. He's found his plans for the future. His plans that involve Cal.
1. Chapter 1

It was at 3am, in a haze of grief, that Ethan found the folder. He had been banging around the flat for hours, leafing through sheets, sorting through Cal's stuff. It was harder than it sounded - every photo, letter, note, was a memory, setting Ethan off in a downhill of spiral of pain. And he refused to throw anything out - not even the shopping list he found crumpled in Cal's coat pocket. It would be far too final.

But the folder. Stuffed under their passports and birth certificates in the drawer Ethan kept all the important documents. He'd completely forgotten about the folder - taking an out of sight out of mind attitude. But now, now Cal was gone, he pulled it out.

Written, in a cursive handwriting of an old life, on the front was 'Huntington's Folder'. Ethan remembered writing it with his new fountain pen. Now the ink has faded slightly, the sticker yellowing and peeling around the edges.

He sat down on the sofa, clearing away half eaten take-away boxes and dirty clothes, closing his eyes a little to try and relieve himself of the stinging pain of exhaustion. He opened the folder slowly, breathing in the musty scent of untouched paper. The first page was a photo, and he nearly retched as the memory came flooding over. It was a photo of him and Cal at a theme park, grinning cheesily in one of those photo booths. Cal had dragged him on all the big rides, he had pretended to hate it but secretly enjoyed it, and they had paid ridiculous amounts for cheap candyfloss and greasy chicken.

Ethan remembered putting the photo into the folder after it had been finished. A reminder of the life he once had. He didn't know how bad it was going to get, but he just wanted to remember some of the good times.

Ethan put the photo to one side and leafed through the pages. He remembered coming into the kitchen, one Saturday morning. It was unusual to eat breakfast together - their shifts rarely lined up, and even if they did Cal liked a lie-in. Ethan had sat down opposite Cal, poured them both a cup of coffee, and put the folder in front of them. Cal's face had blanched when he read the sticker on the front.

"Ethan…" He whined.

"We need to talk about this."

"Please...not yet. We don't need to do it yet."

Ethan closed his eyes for a second, trying to get the strength to carry on. He had opened his genetic screening results six weeks previously, and he still felt numb with pain, his eyes itching from crying. And here, in the midst of the chaos and pain and confusion, were his highlighters and post-it notes and folders. A plan. A route out of this jungle.

"We've got ages. We don't need to do this yet." Cal said quietly, and Ethan was reminded that his result had impacted on his brother too.

"Cal." Ethan's voice broke a little. "I need to know what's coming next. We need a plan."

Cal had to reprimand himself. It wasn't him with the disease, it was Ethan. For once, this wasn't about him, it was about his younger brother.

"Okay." Cal breathed out slowly. "We'll make a plan."

And so they had sat there nearly all day looking for new medicines and trials that could give Ethan a few extra years. And when they had finished grappling onto the last straws of hope, Ethan had got out his trusted calculator - the calculator that had got him through his medical degree - and they budgeted their bank accounts, worked out how much they needed to save. They researched care homes, found nursing agencies, made sure they had enough to buy the wheelchair and stair lift and maybe move to a more accessible flat. They had to make sure Cal could take a career break, that they could receive benefits. Cal read it out, Ethan scribbled it down in neat notes. It was like they were dealing with a patient, not their own lives.

Cal threw a pizza in the oven, and as they took their first bite of cheesy dough, Ethan began the biggest battle of the day.

"You'll need to help me die." He said, a calmness in his voice that would continue to haunt Cal for years.

Cal didn't reply for a moment, taking a long drink from his glass of water. Deep down he wasn't surprised - he was guessing something like this would be coming. But that didn't make it any easier.

"You're my younger brother Ethan. Do you know how it feels to be part of your death?"

"I want to die peacefully, when I still have dignity."

Cal shook his head. "Don't make me do this."

"I want you to take me to Switzerland. To Dignitas. I've thought about it hard."

Cal shook his head, refusing to accept it. "No. We'll make you comfortable, get you into a good nursing home."

"This is not about you!" Ethan shouted, frustration and anger that had been building up finally pulsing through his body. "That's not what I want! Give a dying man some dignity!"

Ethan took a few deep breath, collecting himself.

"Cal. If you do not help me die I will have to do it myself. And to do it myself I will have to go before I get truly ill. Which means I may lose out years of life that I could have enjoyed."

Cal's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to lose you."

"By the time it gets to that point, you'll already have lost me." Ethan said.

And so Cal helped plan how to kill his younger brother. They put enough money for plane tickets to Switzerland into an envelope, worked out which hotels they could stay in, chose an air line.

They agreed that Cal would buy the tickets when Ethan decided.

Ethan could tell Cal was still conflicted.

"Cal you've got to promise me that you'll follow this through."

Cal looked up at him and nodded.

"I mean it. I don't often ask things of you. But this is the most important thing you'll ever do for me. You told me...two years ago...that you're my safety net. That you want to look after your younger brother. Well here's your chance to prove it."  
Cal nodded again. "I promise."

Ethan smiled. For the first time since he had received the news, a wave of calmness washed over him.

"How can you be so calm about this?" Cal asked finally, as he watched his brother file away the notes into the folder.

Ethan looked up at his brother. "Honestly?"

Cal nodded.

"Knowing that there's a way out, that you can end the suffering whenever you want. It gives it an end. And when there's an end there's hope. My biggest fear is losing control - being dressed by some zero-hour contract agency nurse in a godforsaken nursing home out in the middle of nowhere."

"Ethan I'd never let that happen to you."

"I know. But you deserve a future too."

Cal shook his head. "Don't you dare say that. I know what I'm choosing. I know who I'm choosing. We're in this together. We're in this until the end."

Ethan smiled a little, taking a sip of his coffee that had long since gone cold.

"I know. And I want you to remember me like I am now. Not someone choking on their own saliva."

Cal walked round and hugged his little brother, his brother who had been given this burden, his brother who he wanted to protect.

"I'll be with you till the end."


	2. Chapter 2

How ironic, Ethan thought now. How ironic, that Cal was dead Ethan was the one with the defective gene. The dirty one.

A wave of self-loathing washed over him. He scrabbled with desperate hands to the box of medicine. He was a burden and he just wanted out. It was too much. He wasn't strong. He wasn't clever. His hands shook as he popped the paracetamol out of its packaging, until there were ten white pills on his lap. All he wanted was to stop the pain, to join his brother. Because really, if there wasn't something after this shitty life he had been given, what was the point? Why drag through each day, knowing oblivion was coming. And that's what he wanted right then. Oblivion. The peaceful painless oblivion. He scooped up the pills and swallowed them dry, wincing at the acidic taste. He washed them down with red wine and lay back. It was coming. He could finally be with Cal.

He waited as the medicine dissolved in his stomach and entered his bloodstream, and wondered what people normally did in this limbo between life and death. He got up his phone and scrolled through his contacts. So many people; friends, colleagues, distant relatives. But ultimately, you come into life alone and you leave it alone. All these people, relationships, conversations. Ultimately meaningless.

He clicked on Charlie's number. Charlie was kind. Charlie liked Cal. Ethan just wanted something to do, to pass the time. Charlie picked it up on the last ring, and he sounded exhausted, reminding Ethan that it was still 3am. Concept of time seemed blurred.

"Hello?" Charlie called anxiously.

"Hello...Charlie," Ethan slurred. He must have drunk more than he had realised.

"Ethan? Are you alright? Where are you?"

"I'm alright. In fact...you could say I'm more than alright," Ethan said with a manic laugh.

"Ethan. Where are you?"

"I'm with the angels."

"Where are you?!" Charlie shouted, fear and frustration rising in his voice.

Ethan didn't reply for a moment, enjoying the dizzying feeling he was getting in his head.

"I'm with Cal."

"Oh God Ethan. No."

Charlie turned to Duffy, shoving her awake. "Call an ambulance." Duffy looked up, her eyes wide with surprise, before grabbing her phone.

"Ethan are you at home?"

"I just wanted it to end." Ethan said. "And it has. I'm going to go to heaven."  
"Ethan have you taken something?" Charlie waited. "Are you at home? Ethan! Please. Talk to me."

Black spots swum at the edge of Ethan's vision as he sunk back into the sofa. He could hear Charlie's voice, so distant. But he was too far gone to be pulled back to reality. He felt like he was floating. He closed his eyes, drifting to sleep.

Suddenly he was being harshly shaken awake.

"Open your eyes Ethan! I mean it. Open your eyes!"

Ethan's eyes opened before rolling back.

"OK. He's still conscious." A male voice, talking to someone else. Who? Ethan wasn't sure, and he didn't really want to think about it.

More hands, grabbing him, soft plastic against his skin. Voices, hushed and then frantic, swimming in and out. Needles pricking his skin, masks up against his face. At first he tried to struggle, but then he just accepted it. If this was what dying felt like…? Well, at least he would finally be rid of the Huntington's.

He felt a rush of cool against his skin, more voices, more commotion. Someone talking to him, telling him he's alright. An angel? He tried to fight again, but he's so exhausted. Finally, finally, he conceded to the darkness.

When he woke, he realised he was not dead.

And it was a disappointment.

Because the sheets felt disappointingly real against his skin, the sound of monitors disappointingly loud in his ears. He was alive, and Cal was not.

Robyn came first. She couldn't meet his eye as she smiled and checked the cannula, his blood pressure, his haemoglobin count. He felt sick and didn't want to talk, but she kept up this constant stream of chatter until she finally disappeared out of the door.

Connie came later - an hour later of a day later, Ethan couldn't tell. She also smiled at him, and at least she could look him in the eye.

"We're looking after you Dr Hardy. You're going to be alright."

Then she scribbled something on a clipboard and disappeared.

Ethan was trapped for too long, stuck with his own thoughts. He wanted a distraction - anything to take away from the thumping in his head and the dry crackle in his throat.

Finally Charlie shuffled in, looking exhausted. Ethan wondered what he was worried about.

"Are you alright?" Ethan asked. "You look tired."

Charlie laughed sadly. "You don't look too great yourself."

There was an awkward pause.

"Ethan. I found this." Charlie pulled the Huntingdon's folder out of his bag. The incongruity of the folder took Ethan's breath away. He pulled it closer, thumbing the pages.

"Ethan I read it. I'm sorry but I needed to know."

Ethan counted the pages, the sharp edge of each page giving him a grounding in reality.

"Were you scared no one would help you end your life now Cal is gone?

Ethan looked up at him. He was struggling to make the words match up to sentences, to make Charlie understand. Finally he was able to shake his head.

Charlie waited, but Ethan didn't say anything else, and eventually he left, leaving Ethan alone again.

A dizzying revolution of nurses and check-ups. He was not allowed to fall asleep - or at least stay asleep, because a nurse woke him every half an hour. He felt watched, and drifted in and out of an uneasy sleep. He hadn't eaten or drunk since taken the pills, and he desperately wanted the feeling of sun on his skin and wind in his hair.

Connie came back.

"Dr Hardy? How are you feeling?"

"Goo..d" Ethan's tongue lay heavy in his mouth, slurring his words. "Can I go home?"

Connie smiled regretfully. "Not yet, unfortunately. We've still got a bit of work to do."

She read his notes quickly, checking his pulse again.

"We're going to have to do a psych assessment, Ethan." Her tone was kinder, and she used his first name. "I know you're going through a horrific ordeal, and I'm not going to pretend that I understand. But trying to kill yourself? This is not normal. And it doesn't need to be normal."

Ethan didn't reply. He knew something like this was coming. How could he explain? He wasn't trying to kill himself. He just wanted to be with Cal.


End file.
